


Snake Eyes

by river1983



Series: Tumblr Collections [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecure Crowley, M/M, Soft Aziraphale, Tumblr Prompt, Worried Crowley, caring Aziraphale, crowley's glasses, ineffable husbands, self-conscious crowley, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river1983/pseuds/river1983
Summary: Crowley being self-conscious/worried about his snake eyes, and Aziraphale reassuring him there is nothing to worry about.





	Snake Eyes

Ever since glasses were invented, Crowley has covered up his eyes. Aziraphale has only seen him without them a handful of times, and that includes before there was a way for him to cover his eyes. The angel had no idea the reason–the most obvious assumption would be because it wasn’t normal, but in truth, Crowley never cared about being particularly normal. Neither of them did.

Even now, while they were in an established relationship and have been for a year, Aziraphale had only seen Crowley’s eyes when they were drunk once before the apocalypse and when they reunited at the airbase approximately thirty-one minutes before the world was supposed to end.

Aziraphale was wondering about this while they sat in his bookshop’s back room. Crowley, still wearing his glasses, was snoring on the couch, stretched across the entire couch’s length. Aziraphale smiled as he took in the sight. Crowley looked much more peaceful when he was asleep, even with the glasses, as much as they bothered Aziraphale. His posture was relaxed, and his expression was much more calm than usual. He contemplated taking the glasses off, but dismissed it, as he thought it would be maybe a bit too much of an invasion of privacy.

So instead he let his lover snore on, kissing his forehead gently as he left the room to find the book he had been reading.

–

While they were zooming through the streets of London at an ungodly speed, Aziraphale rifled through the car’s hidden pockets looking for music other than Queen (though he knew he would find nothing). He opened a pocket and found nothing but extra pairs of sunglasses. There had to be at least fifteen in there.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale asked, hand still on the handle of the pocket.

“Yes, angel?”

“Why do you have so many pairs of glasses?”

Crowley’s eyes darted down to the pocket and closed it hastily, his face flushing red. “Just in case these break, angel. No other reason.”

Crowley kept his gaze toward the road, gripping the steering wheel. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, clearly seeing a sore spot, but he said nothing. He would find out at some point.

But until then, Queen’s “Under Pressure” filled the silence of the car as they zipped down the street.

–

Crowley was tearing apart Aziraphale‘s backroom–moving his books, pulling at the cushions of the couch, and rearranging even the lights looking for something.

“Dear God, Crowley, what could you possibly be looking for?” Aziraphale complained as he stepped into the tornado that was his backroom at the moment.

“My glasses, angel! Where are they?” Crowley threw around another cushion, frantically looking around the ruined room.

“Your_ glasses_? Crowley, dear, is it that important to you?”

“Yes!” Crowley exclaimed, finally looking up at the angel so he could see his yellow eyes. “Because–” Crowley looked down and turned away. “I just need to find them–”

Aziraphale set down cocoa he was carrying and grabbed Crowley’s arm, turning him around so he faced the angel. 

“Look at me, dear,” Aziraphale ordered. Crowley hesitantly looked up, barely meeting Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes.

“You don’t need them around me, Crowley.”

Crowley shook his head. “I need–”

“I’ve never known you to be self-conscious, dear. Please, tell me what’s wrong?”

Crowley shook his head again, his shoulders dipping in shame. “I–”

He finally completely met Aziraphale’s eyes. “I just–”

Aziraphale hugged the taller man, pulling him in so Crowley’s head rested in the crook of the angel’s head. Crowley held him tightly, breathing in the smell of old books and cocoa and his new cologne. He let go, but not all the way, pulling back far enough to look the angel in the eye.

“I…” Crowley started, trying to force the words from his mouth. He wasn’t_ used_ to this–he was used to repressing his feelings and emotions so he_ didn’t_ need to talk about them.

“I was…afraid,” He finally choked out. “They’d remind you of who I was, who I still_ am_, and I–” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

Aziraphale clasped the demon’s hands. “Oh, Crowley,” He said, smiling small up at the demon. “You will never lose me.”

Crowley shook his head once again. 

“Crowley, I don’t see you as ‘the demon’ or ‘a fiend'. I see you as_ you_, as Crowley. The man who yells at his plants, who drives at ungodly speeds on the roads of London, who loves so deeply when he desires to. Simply that.”

The angel pulled the demon down to kiss him lightly on the lips. “We’re on our own side, remember?”

Crowley smiled a little. “Of course we are, angel.” He sighed deeply. “Thank you.”

He looked around the room, seeing the mess he made. “I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale waved his hand dismissably. “Nothing a quick miracle can’t fix,” He said with a snap of his fingers, returning the room to it’s originally organized disaster.

Crowley chuckled. “It actually doesn’t look much different now that I look at it.”

Aziraphale nudged him with his elbow. “Oh, be quiet.”

Crowley laughed, his lost glasses long forgotten.


End file.
